Everyone knows that Shen Yuan, the embroidered slave in the cold palace, is as humble as dust. Her fingertips ran through the cocoons formed by countless blood bubbles, and the embroidered mandarin ducks were discarded casually. Even the lowest maid could trample on her dignity. But she never defended herself, she just lowered her head and embroidered a pattern that no one could understand, stitch by stitch. Until that night, the deposed prince was imprisoned in the cold palace, covered in blood and dying. Everyone avoided him, but Shen Yuan slowly raised her eyes, her phoenix eyes filled with frost, and raised an embroidery needle with cold light in her bare hand - she said: "Your Highness, I can embroider mountains and rivers, and I can also embroider your life."
At that moment, what was flying around her fingertips was no longer silk threads, but the power of the emperor, the power of the court, and the life and death of countless heroes. Using the needle as a pen and the sky as cloth, she quietly embroidered a chess game covering the world in an unknown corner. Powerful ministers kneel down, princes compete, and heroes are willing to be pawns, just because where the needle falls is where the new destiny lies.
She does not embroider mandarin ducks playing in the water, nor does she embroider flowers to bring wealth.
She only embroidered the beautiful mountains and rivers thousands of miles away, and all the living beings who bowed their heads. When everyone thought she was doing the embroidery, little did they know that she was the one doing the needlework.
